


rooftop

by ell (amywaited)



Series: fleeting [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, im tired and projecting again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 17:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17871233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/ell
Summary: his heart beats in time with car engines that won’t start. the air is enough to make him lightheaded, but he won’t fall unless he wants to





	rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> this feels longer than it is. things are dragging. enjoy it

Peter’s made something of a habit sitting out on the fire escape. 

He’s not supposed to, exactly, but he does anyway. He’s found he feels at home when he’s up high, which is just as well considering ninety five percent of New York is well above the skyline.

He thinks perhaps he was always supposed to fly. That’s why his web swinging had felt so natural, why heights had never bothered him. He was born to soar.

It’s comforting, he thinks, knowing he was born for something. Even if it is just wishful thinking.

May doesn’t like it. How he’s always out there, swinging his legs from ten stories up. The air is cold enough to burn but its so fresh it makes him lightheaded. He supposes May is just afraid he’ll fall, balancing on a railing that isn’t supposed to be balanced on. 

He wouldn’t fall unless he wants to, but May doesn’t know that. She never will, probably, because Peter intends to keep all aspects of his alter-ego something of a secret but May has always known more about him than he’s known  about himself, so it probably won’t be long before she finds out. 

Perhaps then her mind would be put at ease, knowing he wouldn’t fall unless that was his intention. 

He doesn’t think it’s his intention. Not at the moment, in any case. 

He likes to watch the sun rise. And the sun set, when he can catch it. Watching the world wake up from his vantage point, too high up to be safe, too high up to care. 

Peter feels himself wake up too, his heart beating in some sort of time with car engines that won’t start and birds tittering to each other, singing songs that Peter couldn’t dream to understand. 

It’s kind of… beautiful. That’s what he tells himself. The miracle of life, something he’s begging to be a part of himself. 

The sun sets every night, though, and his heart beat stutters out with it. He barely sleeps through the night, because sun rise is the only time he feels alive and that’s when things start to get bad again. 

He doesn’t notice enough to realise it, but slowly he starts balancing more, walking a knife’s edge. He barely sees May’s terrified eyes, watching his every move, and he’s not sure he’d care if he did see them. 

The air is clear enough for him to finally breath. Maybe that’s why he stops. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi
> 
> i wrote this in about twenty minutes, at some ungodly hour in the morning where my fingers felt colder than they were. so apologies if its inconsistent, or incoherent. sometimes i have feelings where im not entirely sure what to do with them.
> 
> i dont really know why the words did what they did, or how they got there, but i hope you pull some kind of enjoyment from them regardless.


End file.
